You know what I think? I think everyone should have a thought buddy - someone you can talk to without editing yourself. Someone you can bounce ideas off, or just empty your head with. Because sometimes you don’t even realise what you’re actually feeling until you’ve said it out loud. And then it’s like… okay. Yeah. There was something in that.

Anyway. That was just a thought.

But while I’m here, I’m going to share something else. Because, well… why not. I don’t know if there’s a clear message in this post. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. But if you’ve ever lived with hearing loss, struggled with hearing aids, or relied on lip-reading more than you realised - you might recognise yourself in this.

Growing Up Hard of Hearing

I’m hard of hearing in my right ear. I have been since I was young.

I had an infection that burst my eardrum and caused a perforation. As a result, I went to speech therapy as a kid, presumably because not hearing properly affected how I spoke. I remember not being able to pronounce my S’s properly. My name starts with an S, so that was great.

One memory stands out really vividly. In one therapy session, I had to make a collage of things beginning with “S”. There were a lot of pictures of sausages. I mean… I’m still not sure how making a collage of sausages was supposed to help. Was I meant to say the word out loud every time I glued one onto the paper? Maybe that’s why I can say it perfectly now.

Adapting to Hearing Loss (Without Really Thinking About It)

The thing is, you’d never guess I’m hard of hearing. I think I adapted pretty well. No one at school or uni knew - unless I told them - and I don’t think I told many people. To me, it was just normal. I was used to it. My speech was fine. Okay, it’s a little more northern than everyone else down here, but apart from that… I reckon I blend in just fine.

I had grommets as a child, and then at 18 I had surgery to try and graft the perforation. It didn’t work. No biggie, right? I used to wear an earplug in the shower or while swimming. For some reason, I stopped - and somehow water still hasn’t destroyed me yet. So that’s nice.

For a long time, I kind of forgot about my hearing loss altogether.

COVID, Masks, and Lip-Reading

Then COVID happened. And suddenly everyone was wearing masks. Perfect.

That’s when I realised just how much I rely on lip-reading. Which probably explains why I stare at people so intently when they talk to me. Over the years, my hearing has definitely gotten worse. Face-to-face, with little background noise? I’m fine.

But put me in a noisy room - a bar, a restaurant, a group setting - and honestly? No chance. I just smile and nod. And no, most of the time I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. I’m sure it’s fascinating. I’m just… not there. I’m in my own little world at that moment.

It didn’t bother me too much at first. I think I was just used to it. But I could tell it was starting to frustrate people around me. If I wasn’t looking directly at someone, I often couldn’t hear them. So eventually, I took the plunge.

Going Private, Then Back to the NHS

The NHS ENT waiting list was long, and I’d already been on it for a while, so I decided to pay privately for the consultations and audiology appointment - about £600 in total. Not too bad. After that, they transferred me onto the NHS system, and I got an appointment to be fitted with NHS hearing aids.

It’s been three days now, and I’m really not getting on with them. Let me be clear: the NHS is incredible. Truly. The hearing aids aren’t the huge, clunky things I imagined. They’re discreet. And everything is free. The appointments. The tubes. The batteries. Forever. Batteries forever! Come on. We are so lucky to have the NHS in the UK.

But the experience itself… it’s strange. And pretty frustrating. Everything sounds tinny. Artificial. The microphones sit at the top, so I can hear everything. I can hear my hair every time it moves. And background noise is so loud. My right hearing aid is amplified more - because that’s by far my worse ear - so there’s constant noise there. And when I speak, I sound ridiculously loud to myself.

When I left the hospital after getting them fitted, a woman from the air ambulance started talking to me. I felt like I was shouting, so I lowered my voice - and she kept asking me to repeat myself. I mean, she was very nice, but I felt ridiculous. Like, how am I ever going to know how loud I sound to other people?

Adjusting to Hearing Aids: The Emotional Side

I feel vulnerable wearing them. Self-conscious. Everything is louder and unfamiliar. It’s overwhelming in a way I didn’t expect. I think I assumed I’d suddenly be able to hear like everyone else - you know, like some sort of magical cure.

I know I need to give it time - everyone says that - but right now it just feels weird. Disorientating. Exposing. Part of me feels like it was easier not hearing that well. I was used to it. I mean, people probably thought I was ignoring them if they spoke and I wasn’t looking at them… but is that really worse than this?

Final Thoughts

I guess things just take a while to get used to, right? Maybe in a few months I’ll be raving about how amazing my hearing aids are and wondering how I ever lived without them. I know they’ll make my life better, I just can’t feel that yet. For now… well, it’s weird. Very weird. Too much. My brain is still figuring out this new thing, trying to adapt to all the sounds at once.

Change is like that, right? Even when it’s good, even when it’s necessary, it can feel uncomfortable at first. Our instinct is to cling to what’s familiar, to resist what disrupts our sense of normal. But if we can sit with the discomfort - stay curious, stay open - maybe the unfamiliar slowly becomes home. And maybe, in the long run, it really does turn out better. 🩷